


A Game of Chance

by Celyan



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: 00Q Reverse Bang, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Romance, Getting Together, James Bond is a Bit Much, M/M, Mission Fic, Post-SPECTRE, Q Branch has a betting pool, R is surrounded by bloody romantics, Slow Burn, and Q pretends he’s none the wiser
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:00:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22453072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celyan/pseuds/Celyan
Summary: James Bond’s return to Six after a two month holiday is merely a continuation of what makes Q’s life more challenging, but it’s not like he hasn’t got practice with dealing with troublesome double-oh agents, meddling friends, and gossiping minions, right?—The first thing M ever said to the new Quartermaster after 007 came back to life was, “For the love of god, whatever you do, donotfall in love with him.”Unfortunately for Q, she said that in front of his entire branch.The betting pool has been going on ever since.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Comments: 34
Kudos: 639
Collections: 2019-2020 00Q Reverse Big Bang





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AmeresLare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmeresLare/gifts).
  * Inspired by [How to Run a Betting Pool](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/554638) by AmeresLare. 



> Firstly, this fic (that was supposed to be about 6-7k at most but which then told me in no uncertain terms that no, _this_ is how we’ll do it instead and I was here just 👀) would never have seen the light of day if it wasn’t for the lovely artwork by the amazing AmeresLare, so thank you for sharing it with us. 
> 
> And secondly, this was my very first time in participating in the 00Q RBB, and it was definitely an enjoyable experience. I know I’m a few days past the official posting period and generally a slow writer and even slower in editing my fics, so I am sorry about that. I’ll do better next time. Still, I had a lovely time writing this fic, which is my very first one properly dealing with the Q Branch betting pools — which is strange, now that I think of it, as I’ve always enjoyed it a lot in others’ fics. So it really was about time that I wrote one. 
> 
> Thirdly, I can never express it enough how thankful I am for my absolutely awesome betas, Christine and Souffle, for all their help and encouragement. 💚 Without them this fic would honestly be pure chaos, and also I’d probably never get to the point of actually posting it. They also helped me with the title, because I suck at coming up with those. 
> 
> Anyway, here’s the lovely art. Enjoy. 😊

_The first thing M ever said to the new Quartermaster after 007 came back to life was, “For the love of god, whatever you do, do_ not _fall in love with him.”_

_Unfortunately for Q, she said that in front of his entire branch._

_The betting pool has been going on ever since._

_It has even branched out in some very unexpected directions. (All of that has been courtesy of Bond, naturally.)_

_They did think it was a write-off after 007 buggered off with the pretty blonde, but he returned with his tail between his legs before they got around to giving people their money back._

_There were mixed reactions over his less than grand return, not quite befitting a double-oh of Bond’s calibre, but the consensus seemed to show cautious optimism from all sides._

_If nothing else, at least there was the possibility of the Quartermaster becoming less despondent due to the way Bond, armed only with a smile and a few well chosen words, always managed to penetrate the cool façade Q tried to surround himself with._

*

Q’s not looking forward to his first official meeting with Bond after the man’s unexpected return. 

He did see Bond on the day of his return, briefly on his way to the executive floor to meet with Moneypenny and fetch her for their shared lunch. But that meeting was nothing more than a surprised look, a civilised nod, and a cheeky wink from Bond. Q had rolled his eyes at the last bit, for obvious reasons, and hurried off to seek out Moneypenny so that he could continue to bitch and moan about Bond to her for most of their hour-long lunch.

Yes, that had not been one of his shining moments, that Q freely admits. 

To himself, at least. 

Still, that was in the past, and now is now. Bond’s not quite requalified yet - after all, he only made his way back to Six three days ago - but he has made an appointment with Q nevertheless. 

And by appointment, Q means an _actual, official request for a meeting_ , duly processed and added into his calendar by one of the junior Q-branchers. Q had honestly thought Bond did not know - or care - enough to bother with something like that.

Apparently, he’d been wrong. Wonders never ceased with 007. 

And to think that Q had almost been looking forward to a new 007, one who _wouldn’t_ make him want to rip out all of his hair with quite such alarming frequency as Bond has a habit of doing. 

It is true what they say, Q muses: be careful what you wish for, you might end up getting it. 

Not that getting it in this context means what some of his more involved minions have in mind. 

They honestly think that Q is not fully aware of the betting pool that’s been going around since, really, the day he’d become the Quartermaster. The audacity of the young, he supposes, and isn’t unable to see the irony in such a statement. But he digresses. 

And he _could_ find out what exactly the betting pool consists of, if he really wanted to. So far, he has taken the high road and allowed his minions to keep their secrets and their fun. Besides, it has turned out to be good for morale as well as team building. This, in turn, has boosted efficiency in their work, which is something that Q heartily encourages. So the betting pool, despite it mostly circling around his person, has done a world of good for the department, he concludes, and therefore keeps on pretending he’s none the wiser.

For the record, when Q had been wishing for a more considerate, thoughtful 007, he’d never have thought he could potentially find it in Bond, who is still the holder of the title. 

(Q did wonder for a moment, before 005’s mission went pear-shaped at the time and he needed to dedicate his full focus on that, why no retirement paperwork for Bond, or at least paperwork for a new 007, ever found its way to his metaphorical table. But then there were other, more pressing, matters to focus on, and the fleeting thought got buried under several other, imminently more important thoughts. Such is, after all, the busy life of the Quartermaster of MI6.)

Bond’s two month holiday with the lovely Dr Swann notwithstanding, the man looks rather good, considering that he returned alone after what must have been at least a semi-sudden breakup. Not that Q knows what Bond has been up to since leaving Six and the rest of them without any proper goodbyes - Q had thought of their group as friends, Bond included - but one can always speculate. 

If one wishes. When one has nothing better to do and when one lies alone in one’s dark bedroom, staring at the ceiling and trying so hard to just fall asleep for heaven’s sake. 

Q, as the one in question, firmly digresses. Again. 

Still, the fact remains that he has no idea what to expect when Bond finally turns up. He just hopes that it won’t be a painful experience for either of them. 

*

Bond appears at 2 pm on the dot. Q is aware of it not because he sees Bond, but because he feels the atmosphere change and sees his minions’ reactions through his open door. 

He’s watched several videos of meerkats on the internet, and he cannot help making comparisons between the adorable little animals and the way his people behave. Meerkats may be somewhat cuter, but there is something sweetly hilarious about the way his minions’ heads are suddenly popping up from behind their monitors and performing uncanny imitations of curious little animals sniffing the air — though Q knows not to voice any such thoughts while R is in the vicinity. He much prefers his hearing intact, and his body parts as they currently are, thank you very much. 

Q saves the email he was in the process of writing and sits back in his chair to follow Bond’s movements through the room. He notices that Bond exchanges nods and greetings, and in a few cases even smiles, with several of his employees. Curious, Q blinks. He’d not been aware of how many of his minions are no longer at all wary of Bond. 

He’s not sure if it’s a good or a bad thing. 

Before he has time to meditate on it properly, Bond appears in the doorway. He even knocks politely on the wide open door, and waits for Q invite him in, whereas the Bond from before would have simply marched in. 

Q’s both curious and a little confused as he looks at the man sitting in front of him, but he hides it under the cool façade of the Quartermaster. 

“007. To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“Hello Q, I’ve missed you,” Bond replies with a smile, and Q can already imagine those words being repeated through word-of-mouth and coded messages between his minions and whichever other people have been taking part in the betting pool. 

Perhaps this open door policy he’d recently adopted for Bond’s visits is not such a great idea, after all. 

“Did you expect me to return the sentiment?” Q asks with a raised eyebrow. “I’m afraid I’ve been much too busy since your sudden departure to entertain any such notions.”

Bond simply chuckles, and Q tries his best not to notice the tan he’s acquired and the laugh lines around the mesmerising blue of his eyes. “If I didn’t know better I’d say that you’re not happy that I’m back.”

“Don’t you? Know better, I mean?” Q asks, and marvels at the effortless way they seem to slide right back into the banter they’ve always shared both on and off the comms. (His traitorous heart wonders if the flirtation will make a reappearance, too, but his brain firmly tells it to shut up and leave any such hopes in the romance novels where they belong. Q just wishes that his internal organs were less annoying.) 

“Did you not receive my postcards?” Bond asks, and tilts his head much like an owl as he looks at Q with those bright blue eyes of his. 

“I did,” Q says, wishing that having Bond’s attention fully focused on him like this wouldn't be quite so dangerous to his peace of mind. Especially as he’s not had the experience in over two months. 

There had been postcards, two in total. One had been sent during the first week of Bond’s holiday from France, and it had contained only one line. 

_Thank you for the car, she’s a delight. Wish you were here, JB_

The second card had arrived after a month and a half, and had included a curious hint about 006’s mission that had been ongoing at the time. It had been a big part of why Q had been able to save 006’s hide when the agent, in his typical reckless way, had gone and fanned the flames under the seats of several very powerful people a bit too vigorously and literally. An explosion or two had also been part of the package, probably in Bond’s honour if Q knows anything about Trevelyan. 

And he does, much to his regret. 

Trevelyan is almost as bad as Bond, though to his credit, he doesn’t flirt with Q in the same way as Bond does. His flirting contains an amount of distance in it that Bond’s simply doesn’t, and Q has concluded that 006 and 007 must have had words about the complicated thing that there is between him and Bond, whatever _that_ really is. Q believes that only Bond knows for sure, and so far he hasn’t been too forthcoming about it with Q, bloody spy that he is. 

Sure, Q thought that Bond leaving resolved whatever thing there was once and for all, but apparently he was mistaken. 

After all, the second postcard had also included a line about Bond thinking about him. 

“Good, I would have hated for them to have gotten lost along the way,” Bond says, bringing Q back from his reverie. 

“Yes, well, they did arrive in a timely manner. Thank you for the hint, it was ever so helpful,” Q acknowledges. 

“It was my pleasure,” Bond smiles. 

Ignoring what that smile does to his insides - those bloody stupid internal organs of his were at it, again - Q tries to steer the conversation back to the topic at hand. Not that they had had that clear a topic before, but still. ”l’d hate to rush you, but does this appointment have an actual purpose? Only I have other things that I could be doing, and if I’m not entirely mistaken, you’ve another appointment with Psych in about twenty minutes.” 

Bond doesn’t look like he minds Q’s words. Instead, his smile deepens, and Q wastes a moment in admiring what it does to the man’s face before realising what he’s done. 

“Why, Q, I didn’t know that you were quite this aware of my schedule,” Bond says. “What with you being so busy and all.” 

“You needn’t sound so smug about it,” Q counters, “I’m only doing my duty as your Quartermaster.” 

“I’m sure you are,” Bond grins, but before Q has the chance to say anything else, he produces a big parcel from the bag that Q only belatedly realises is there on the floor next to Bond’s chair. “This is for you,” the man says and puts it down on the table in front of Q. 

“Oh, um, thank you,” Q says and stares at the carefully wrapped parcel. He did not expect it, but perhaps he should have. After all, Bond has a habit of bringing him something from his missions whenever possible. And even if his absence hadn’t actually been a mission, Bond is still Bond. 

“Well, aren’t you going to open it?” Bond asks. 

Q gives him a mild look, but doesn’t bother with a verbal reply. Instead, he does as he’s told and tentatively peels open the wrapping. 

There is tea, of course, as Q getting tea from Bond has been a tradition for as long as Q can remember; and while it started as an inside joke of sorts (he used to get Earl Grey from various different locations, always in packages written in local languages, and occasionally with a bit of a twist taste-wise) it has evolved into a cherished ritual that they both enjoy, as Q has a habit of offering Bond a taste or a few of whichever tea he receives. 

This time, there are three different packages of tea. One is the expected Earl Grey, this time with added rose petals, and the other two are a green tea and a jasmine blend from Cambodia as well as a canister that claims to contain 12 Individually Wrapped Heart Shaped Blooming Tea Flowers. 

Q blinks and glances at Bond. He’s starting to detect a theme, there. 

Moving the teas aside for the moment, Q reaches inside the parcel and takes out a box of Mozart Balls and a rubber duck wearing Lederhosen, which are clearly from Austria. Next, he finds a set of beer cosmetics (including shampoo, hair balm, shower gel, hand cream and lip balm) by Manufaktura, which Q knows are from Prague.

Briefly, he wonders if Bond has any ulterior motives behind his gifts. He probably does, but Q isn’t going to be the one to ask, that he immediately decides. Instead, he picks up the final item, a beautiful Mekong quilt from Cambodia that is the perfect size for him to curl up into while watching telly on the sofa.

“These are all lovely,” he tells Bond, feeling oddly touched. “Thank you.” 

“And then there’s also this,” Bond says and offers Q a familiar key. Q accepts it gingerly, and then looks Bond straight in the eye. 

“There better not be a scratch on her,” he says threateningly. Bond doesn’t look appropriately cowed, though, but when had he ever? Still, giving the car to Bond had caused M to regard him with a certain look in his eyes and wordlessly shake his head before departing, and that had not been an experience Q particularly wants to repeat any time soon. Especially as it had happened in front of most of his minions. 

“Not even one,” Bond assures him. “I took very good care of her.” 

Better than of Dr Swann, Q almost asks. But he manages to keep the words unspoken, and instead he just bites at his lower lip and nods. 

“Well, thank you for returning her unharmed,” Q finally says. “Though I will reserve the right to retract my thanks until after I have actually seen her with my own eyes,” he adds. 

Bond chuckles. “I would expect nothing less.” 

Afterwards, there is a moment of awkwardness (on Q’s part, that is, as Bond seems to be perfectly happy to just sit there and watch him) before Q collects himself enough to be able to offer Bond some of the tea he’d just received from the man. Bond accepts, and they leave his office together, with Bond a solid presence next to him, almost too close for comfort. 

*

“Did you _see_ that?”

“No, did you _hear_ that?” 

R looks at the other technicians and only barely manages not to roll her eyes. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves quite just yet, children,” she says mildly. “He’s only just returned.” 

“With presents for the boss,” points out Gemma, with a ”so there” clearly hidden in the tone of her voice. 

“And the way he looks at him,” adds Vijay with a slightly dreamy look in his eyes. 

R wants to groan. She’s surrounded by utter bloody romantics, which was definitely not what she signed up for when she accepted the position of R. At least Q himself has never been quite this overt in the way he expresses his feelings towards a certain blond menace of a double-oh. 

Then she sees the way Q glances at Bond (covertly, or so he seems to think) when they make their way towards the kitchen area. 

Well, he at least tries, bless him. 

“All right, then,” she says when the pair are out of earshot, “you all know what you need to do.” 

There are nods all around, and R watches as one by one, they all move back to their work stations. She sighs, softly, and thinks that perhaps now they would finally get some kind of closure. 


	2. Chapter 2

_The first time Q saw Bond after M’s funeral in any sort of official capacity was a week later, when Bond came to Q Branch to get his kit for a mission._

_R watched it all from the shadows and noticed the way Bond seemed to, almost imperceptibly, relax when he was standing there next to Q who was explaining something or other about the kit to him. Q didn’t seem to notice it, but then again R knew that the young Quartermaster had only seen Bond a handful of times._

_Still, R saw the way their fingers touched, if just barely, over the items Q was for some reason handing to Bond one by one._

_When Bond left Q Branch, he saw R watching. Contrary to any expectations R might have had, the agent simply nodded at her, but the look on his blue eyes was sharp and perhaps more aware than R had expected._

_There was no warning there, though, so R figured that she wasn’t overstepping any boundaries. Yet, anyway._

*

The first few missions after Bond finished requalifying are on the shorter and easier side, most likely as M’s way of saying _it’s good to have you back, but if you keep on pulling those kinds of stunts, well, this is what you’re facing upon your return_. Q approves, and hopes that Bond will take heed though taking into account the way Bond gripes about the situation while Q does his best to guide the agent over the comms, he knows not to hold his breath. 

The fourth one is a joint mission to Switzerland, and Bond is accompanied by none other than his very best friend, Alec Trevelyan. 

Suddenly Q has three days filled with two double-ohs hellbent on out-flirting each other, and ignoring his guidance while they’re at it. 

“If I ever find out whose genius idea it was to put these two together for this mission, that person will regret it,” Q says to R after muting the comms link on his end. He’s had it up to here with more and more ridiculous, over the top, ever increasingly risqué quips and outrageous pick up lines. To make matters even worse, neither man seems to care even remotely that they have just blown up yet another British embassy. It’s like they’re competing over who does the most damage! 

Or perhaps they, too, have their own betting pool. Q wouldn’t put it past the double-ohs; after all, his minions need to have gotten the idea from somewhere, so why not from their agents? 

“006 and 7 do seem to be behaving increasingly worse,” R admits, her voice soothing. “Would you like me to take over for a while?”

Q sighs. “Better not, I don’t want to risk them going dark.” Then he focuses on what Bond is currently saying, rolls his eyes and unmutes himself again. 

“That’ll be quite enough of that, gentlemen. In case you have forgotten, you still have a mission to finish.”

“Dearest Q, I can and will multitask if need be,” says Bond, utterly unconcerned over the fact that their target has just thrown a grenade at where he’d been hiding not five seconds ago. 

“That’s true, Bond’s good at doing several things at once,” Trevelyan says as he expertly shoots their target’s bodyguard. “Especially in the bedroom.” 

“I can show you after I return, if you wish,” Bond offers playfully.

“I’d rather you focused your energy on what is happening around you,” Q says. “And that goes for you, too, 006!”

“But I’d much rather focus on you, Q,” is what Q gets in return, and he very carefully does not look at any of the other technicians providing assistance to him. This level of flirting is technically nothing new to them, but usually it only goes this far when they’re the only two people on the comms.

Q thinks that he may well be in serious trouble. Bond, for his part, certainly is. 

“Then focus on my voice and do as I tell you, 007,” he says, enunciating the words very clearly. 

“Bossy,” laughs Trevelyan. “I like it!” 

But to Q’s mild surprise, both agents do follow his instructions better afterwards. There’s still flirting, but they do manage to refrain from blowing up any more buildings - that one car apparently doesn’t count, at least according to 006 - or killing or maiming their target. 

Well, maiming him too badly, anyway. At least he won’t be trying to run away with a broken kneecap; that assessment is delivered by Bond with what Q secretly thinks as his double-oh voice that does _things_ to Q’s insides. 

Ignoring the playful kitten apparently using the inside of his stomach as the place for his nightly zoomies, Q tells his agents that the ETA for the retrieval team is two minutes, and expresses his sincere wishes for an uneventful return to Britain for them both. 

Then he logs out, and goes to book the return flights for the troublesome duo. 

*

_The first time Q saw Bond and Trevelyan together happened a few months after the Skyfall incident._

_Q was in the middle of talking with one of the technicians when suddenly there was a loud noise at the door. Q stopped mid-sentence and turned to face the commotion, a displeased frown on his face._

_R was not especially surprised as she’d seen Bond enter and start making his way unerringly towards Q, and she’d known to expect Trevelyan to make an appearance sometime within the next few hours as well. (She’d been the one to arrange his return flight while Q had been busy with what had turned out to be the culmination of Bond’s mission.)_

_Trevelyan had clearly seen both Bond and Q, and he was striding towards them. Bond, for his part, only stopped when he reached Q and had most of his Quartermaster’s attention focused on himself._

_R had long since noticed that Bond preferred Q when it came to picking up and returning his kit, so she was not surprised in the least. She did, however, find it slightly curious that even when Trevelyan wrapped an arm around his shoulders, greeting him with clear enthusiasm, part of his attention remained firmly on Q._

_Even when Bond and Trevelyan left together, both kits returned and having sat through Q’s short lecture about the importance of not bothering Q Branch with their combined shenanigans when there was work to be done, Bond made sure to steal one last look at Q._

*

Bond and Trevelyan appear in Q Branch later in the evening, just as Q is about to call it a night. There aren’t many other people present, seeing as there are no active missions going on at the moment, and Q has told everyone to go home as well. R is there only so that she can deal with Bond and Trevelyan’s kits if they do decide to appear. Q had honestly expected not to see them until the next morning at the earliest, but apparently he has underestimated their eagerness to bring their kits back to their Quartermaster. Or something along those lines, anyway.

“Hello Q, did you miss us?” Trevelyan asks cheerfully.

“To be honest, I didn’t expect to see you until tomorrow,” Q replies as his eyes follow Bond’s movements through the room. Trevelyan has just handed his kit to R, but Bond is making his way straight to Q. 

“Hello Q,” Bond smiles. “I’ve brought you something.” 

“It better be your kit,” Q says with a raised eyebrow. 

“That, too,” Bond says and offers Q both his kit and a bag he’s holding in his other hand. Q thanks him and gives the kit to R who has approached them to be able to take it off his hands, and then looks at the bag he’s been given. 

“Thank you, 007,” he says. He’s long since stopped telling Bond that he needn’t bring him anything, because Bond is stubborn as hell and would only be more insistent on bringing him things from his missions. That Q knows from experience. (Last time he tried, it was five boxes of different varieties of tea, a selection of chocolate and candy, and an assortment of cute but useful souvenirs from Japan, including a maneki neko. Though to be fair, Bond had been there for a month, which meant that he’d had time to go shopping, as well.) 

“Were you about to call it a night?” Trevelyan asks, noticing the lack of tablet on his hands as well as his dark office. 

Q nods. “I was. You two caught me just in the nick of time.”

“Really? Then let us give you a ride home,” Trevelyan offers.

“Alec doesn’t know where you live,” Bond adds. “So I’ll be the one driving.” 

“Have you two been to Medical yet?” Q counters. 

“What do you take us for?” Trevelyan replies, in a way that Q knows could mean anything from _obviously_ to _not in a million years_. He chooses not to challenge the words. They’ll have debriefing with M first thing in the morning, M shall get to be the one to deal with _that_. 

“So shall we?” Bond smiles at him. 

Q looks from Bond to Trevelyan and then to R, who gives him a thumbs up. It’s not too late yet, though late enough that he has missed the rush hour on the Tube. But then again, it’s raining, and Q’s never been too eager to walk in the rain.

Decision made, he nods and goes to get his things from his office. When he returns, Trevelyan offers to hold his bags while Bond helps him into his parka. Q is more than aware of his remaining minions looking at the three of them the whole time, and if he’s not mistaken, there’s even some money being passed over to… R? That bloody traitor! But R, when she sees Q looking at her, only grins unrepentantly and mouths, ”Enjoy,” to him. 

Q’s so busy glaring at her that he only notices Bond’s hand on the small of his back when they reach the lifts. He then spends the rest of the way to Bond’s car cursing his fair skin that shows even the slightest of flushes. Trevelyan teases him about it good-naturedly, though he does quiet down when Bond tells him to shut it. 

In the end, Bond and Trevelyan end up coming in to meet his cats - though Bond has seen them before already, and both Crowley and Aziraphale make it clear by pushing against his legs and asking for pets - and afterwards, when it becomes clear that none of them have yet eaten, they order Chinese food for dinner. 

Q feels rather surreal sitting on the sofa between two of Six’s most dangerous double-oh agents, both with a purring cat on their laps, while sharing an assortment of Chinese dishes. Having his cats there with them, however, is enough to save the situation from getting too awkward. 

Even if both men still continue to flirt with him from time to time. 

Later, when Bond and Trevelyan leave, Q finally has the chance to see what Bond has gotten for him this time. The first item is, of course, the tea (a variety of green tea by Tekoe), followed by a big box of chocolate and two smaller Toblerone bars. 

The last item is a bit of a surprise: it’s a pair of gloves made from the material of the famous Swiss Army blankets. Q picks them up to try them on. They fit perfectly - like a glove, he might even say; because of course Bond knows his size, bloody spy that he is - and are both warm and waterproof. In other words, they’re the perfect gift for the weather they’re having in London. 

At the bottom of the bag, there’s a note that says, in Bond’s by now familiar handwriting: _I hope you like the gloves, Q. Next time I’m in the area, I’ll get you a messenger bag of the same material_. 

Q smiles softly. These gifts of Bond’s are getting more and more personal, but he cannot find it in himself to mind all that much. Whichever token protests he tries to give Bond when they do mention the gifts are just that, and they’re both fully aware of it. 

And besides, Q reciprocates by making Bond personalised gadgets for some of his missions, or in some cases, by giving him prototypes to test. So clearly, it’s not exactly a one-sided affair at all. 

Q does, however, send Bond a text that simply says, _Thank you_. 

He then spends the rest of his evening in front of the telly watching reruns of Star Trek, a sleeping cat on either side of his body, and eats one of the Toblerone bars. If his thoughts are more focused on a certain blue-eyed double-oh than on his show, well, it’s for him to know and Bond to keep guessing.


	3. Chapter 3

_The first time Bond met Q’s cats happened when he was returning from a short but taxing mission._

_Q was in his office when Bond arrived, and the door was firmly closed. R saw the agent walk confidently towards the closed door, only to stop just when he was about to open it. R could guess why Bond had suddenly frozen like that: either he’d heard Q speak to one of the cats (probably Crowley, as he, much like his namesake, could be downright demon-ish when he so desired), or else there had been a meow._

_Not everyone was aware of it, but Q spoke to his cats much like he did to people. The only difference was that most times, he didn’t call them by their names but by cutesy nicknames, such as darling and sweetheart. R wouldn’t blame Bond if he’d heard that and jumped to certain conclusions._

_R had been the one to pick up the cats from Q’s flat and bring them to Six when it had become clear that Q would not be able to leave the building for at least a day or two due to 003’s mission starting later in the evening, and he’d already been there over 24 hours. And so there they had been in Q’s office since the morning, much to the delight of the rest of the Q-branchers._

_R watched as Bond seemed to make up his mind and knocked on the door. Q’s voice called him to enter not long after, so Bond did, the door closing with a quiet click. R amused herself for a moment by imagining Bond’s expression when Aziraphale, the curiouser and more affectionate of the pair, would spot him and make his way towards him in that elegant way of his, and would perhaps even deign to lick his fingers. R knew from experience that his tongue was not exactly soft, especially when he licked her face._

_Crowley, on the other hand, would perhaps even hiss at him. She wondered whether Bond would be able to convince him of his good intentions, or if he’d need Q’s assistance. Then she shook her head, amused, and went back to work._

_Later, when she went to Q’s office to bring Q some tea, R opened the door and came face to face with a rather adorable scene: Bond was laying on the sofa with Aziraphale curled around his neck and Crowley on top of his stomach. Bond was asleep, though his hands were still in the cats’ fur (he’d evidently been given petting duty), and both cats were purring loud enough for R to hear it from her position at the door._

_Q was working steadily on his laptop, though when R glanced at him, she saw that he was smiling faintly. R smiled, herself, and went to deposit the mug of tea on top of Q’s desk._

_Before she left, however, she snapped a few pictures of Bond as evidence and, if the situation happened to call for it, as blackmail material._

*

The next morning starts with Q getting a ride back to work from Bond and Trevelyan. While the other two head for their debrief with M, Q goes down to Q Branch, only to find his minions looking at him knowingly. 

“Good morning, everyone,” he says. “R, would you come to my office, please?”

R nods and follows Q to his office. Q removes his outer layers (which include his new gloves) and turns to face her. “I take it that everyone is aware?” he says, resigned. 

“That you spent your evening with not one but two double-ohs? And that those same double-ohs brought you back to work just now? I’d say it’s safe to assume so, yes.” 

Q groans softly. “You make it sound so inappropriate, when in reality it was simply a dinner between coworkers.” 

“Well, Bond and Trevelyan did just spend three days flirting with you near constantly over the comms,” R points out quite sensibly. “You can’t really blame people for assuming.” 

“I can and I will,” Q says, petulant. 

R chuckles. “Would you like me to have a word with them?” she offers. 

“Please.” 

“Consider it done. Now, Miss Moneypenny was here a bit before you arrived. She says that there is to be a mission that needs your personal touch in the very near future. Just a heads up.” 

“Did she have any other details to share?” 

R shakes her head. “No, but she said to keep an eye on your inbox.” 

“I suppose I should thank her for the warning, then,” Q ponders aloud.

R grins. “She says she’ll accept lunch today, plus all the gossip. Everything is already arranged for and the details added into your calendar.” 

“I suppose I have you to thank for that, then?” Q says with a small sigh. But he knows both R and Eve, and more importantly, they know him and his tendency to get so lost in his work that he often forgets to eat lunch. Except, of course, when he has a lunch meeting arranged. 

And Eve, when she isn’t too busy herself, likes to arrange those meetings for them, and whichever of their friends that are free at the time. R rarely gets to participate in their lunch excursions because she’s Q’s second in command and often needs to be present in Q Branch when Q himself isn’t there, but they’ve been known to have Tanner, several of the field agents (Bond included, if he happens to be in London) and some other people they know from Six join them on occasion. 

Q wonders if anyone else is joining them today. Probably not, if Eve wants, as R had put it, ’all the gossip’ from him. 

“Well, I only wrote down what she told me,” R shrugs elegantly. “I also took the liberty of adding an alarm ten minutes prior.” 

Q doesn’t snort at that, but it’s a near thing. Instead, he thanks R and then moves onto the subject of actual work. 

*

The promised email about the mission that requires Q’s personal touch arrives later in the afternoon, while Q has just returned from the labs, having overseen the testing of a gadget that may or may not have an exploding feature built in. (He’s learnt from the reaction he’d gotten from the field agents over the exploding watch.) 

Q takes a long sip of his freshly brewed tea and starts reading the email. Half an hour later, he finds himself still sitting there in front of his laptop, the rest of his tea gone cold and none other than Bond patiently sitting in the chair in front of his desk. 

“You’re with us again, hmm?” 

Q blinks a few times, feeling confused. “When did you appear?” he blurts out. 

Bond looks amused. “Ten minutes ago. I take it that you were reading about our new mission?” 

“Well, yes, I was actually. But you should have been given some time off, you’ve only just returned from another mission,” Q says, perfectly reasonably.

“I don’t want any time off, though.” 

Q sighs. “Of course you don’t. Tell me that you’ve at least been to Medical?” 

“Naturally, and if you read their report you’ll find that physically, I’m in excellent shape.” 

“And mentally?” Q cannot resist asking, and he raises his eyebrows at Bond’s exaggerated eye roll. 

“I’m going to be acting as your bodyguard, not your shrink.” 

Q has a sinking feeling that Bond had offered himself up for the position. The mission brief sheds no light on that particular subject, however, as all it gives are the details of their cover identities and the purpose of the mission. 

“Be that as it may, you should not put off your visits to Psych. You are aware of the requirements of the double-oh program, after all,” Q tells Bond, though there’s no heat in his tone. Bond does what he wants, he always has, and besides, even if he doesn’t always talk to professionals he does talk to Q. 

Or at least, he used to. Q hopes that his brief holiday with Dr Swann hasn’t changed that. 

Bond says nothing to that. Instead, he suggests that they go get tea and biscuits and spend some time talking about their mission. 

Q has nothing against the suggestion. Although the mission is rather straightforward - they’re to participate in a tech conference to try and attract the attention of their elusive target, Sean Williams, and gain access to his devices and, subsequently, the sensitive information he possesses - the secret to a successful mission does lie in good preparation. 

And in that, Bond is an expert.

*

_Bond and Q’s first shared mission - which was only Q’s second time out in the field - was a success in more ways than one._

_Firstly, it proved that not only was Q able to handle himself in the field, he also worked just as well with Bond when he was physically there with him as when he was only a voice in the agent’s ear._

_Secondly, it proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that there was something there between the two of them: a spark, and a possibility for so much more._

_R, as was her duty as the keeper of all bets, duly took notes on everything. And by everything she truly meant everything, from the way the two talked to each other to how Bond made sure to never let Q out of his sight._

_When the bullet came almost out of nowhere, Bond tackled Q onto the ground, covering him with his bigger body, and shot the would-be assassin in the same fluid movement, all the while keeping his Quartermaster safely underneath himself._

_Q’s dazed, “You’re a tad heavy, 007,” was followed by Bond gently pushing a curl of hair out of Q’s eyes and asking him if he was all right, before he got up and helped Q up as well._

_Seeing the way Bond then insisted on physically making sure that Q was unharmed and Q accepting it with barely a grumble was enough for R to start a little bet of her own._

*

Their target approaches Q during the second day of the conference. 

They’ve finished the formal part of the day and moved onto the informal one, dedicated to mingling and networking over food and drinks. Q is standing near the back of the room, conversing lowly with Bond who is holding a plate of hors d'oeuvres for them to share, when there’s suddenly someone next to him. 

“Excuse me, but you’re Quinn Ashton, are you not?” 

Q turns away from Bond and comes face to face with their target. “Yes. And you are…?” 

“My name is Sean Williams,” he introduces himself, offering Q his hand to shake. Q takes it, and finds his grip firm and the handshake lasting a touch longer than perhaps necessary. Τhe man ignores Bond fully. 

“Forgive me for being so blunt, but I cannot shake the feeling that I know you from somewhere,” Williams continues, his eyes dark and curious. Q swears he also sees not-so-hidden eagerness there, behind cool watchfulness. 

Their intel indicated that Williams isn’t especially dangerous, but as Q’s now being assessed by him, he starts to wonder whether they’re mistaken. 

“I’m afraid I cannot say for sure,” Q replies, sounding apologetic enough to hopefully not cause him to lose interest. 

“Ah, perhaps we could rectify that by getting to know each other now,” Williams suggests, with a smile that has more than a touch of flirting woven into it. 

Q glances at Bond and, after getting a subtle nod from him, agrees.

What follows is a conversation filled with even more innuendo and flirting than Q knew to expect. He’d introduced Bond as his bodyguard and companion when a suitable opportunity occurred, but save for briefly greeting him Williams has been ostensibly ignoring him. Q can tell that it makes Bond both amused and annoyed, moreso when the man makes the mistake of touching Q. 

Q tries his best to avoid any more touches, but as he doesn’t vocally deny him - they are trying to find a way for him to naturally invite them into his room, after all, although when they’d discussed it back at Six, it had been due to Q’s technological skills and any seduction, should it prove to be necessary, would have fallen on Bond - Williams seems disinclined to curtail his advances. When he finally outright propositions Q, crudely enough that Q actually blushes, things come to a head. 

“Excuse me,” Bond says smoothly, “but I’m afraid that my boyfriend isn’t interested.” 

Q, who has no interest whatsoever in entertaining any sort of romantic notions concerning Williams, allows the arm Bond also wraps around his waist. 

“Ah, but I haven’t heard Quinn say so himself,” Williams says with a raised eyebrow, clearly sceptical. Q wonders if it’s because he doesn’t believe them, or because he thinks too highly of his own charms. 

“He doesn’t need to,” Bond continues, pulling Q closer to his body. Q, in turn, obediently leans against Bond’s warmth, but chooses to keep his silence and let Bond deal with the situation in a way that doesn't completely alienate Williams. He hopes, in any case. 

They’d not discussed the need for a fake relationship for this mission, as neither expected it to become a necessity, but Q does take note on how good they are at it. Well, so far, at least. 

“Does he not?” Williams says slowly. 

“Well, allow me to rephrase myself: Quinn’s not interested, unless I’m there as well,” Bond replies with teasing smile. 

Q, who had certainly not expected any of this to happen, keeps his silence and glances adoringly up at Bond. He hopes that Bond knows exactly what he’s doing, because Q has never been a part of a honeypot mission and he never planned to be, either. Bond, for his part, places a gentle kiss on Q’s forehead, as if to tell him that he’s got it covered. 

Now Williams looks at Bond and then at Q, and there is a mix of interest and calculation in his gaze. “I see,” he says. “And if I was to extend the invitation to you…?” 

“We would certainly be tempted by it,” Bond replies easily. 

That seems to shift the tone of the conversation into a whole new level, and from then on, Williams seems to be focusing most of his attention on Bond. Q, who can do submission well enough should the situation call for it, allows Bond to do as he pleases with both his touches (which he luckily keeps unnoticeable and light, mindful of the other people in the room) and his words. 

It’s enough for Williams, though, as by the end of the evening, they find themselves following him to his room. What they’ll do there, Q isn’t certain, but Bond’s murmur of, “Trust me,” hidden by a kiss against the shell of his ear, lets him know that his agent has a plan. 

A plan that does not include him needing to be intimate with anyone, Q hopes. But he does trust Bond, more than he possibly should, so he makes no complaint and allows Bond to lead him forward. 

In the room, Bond makes it clear that he’s the more experienced one, and that Quinn is anything but. For once, Q gets to be glad of his fair skin and the way it practically broadcasts even the tiniest of blushes to anyone who so much as looks at him, as it gives Bond an excellent reason to tease him. When Q hides his face against Bond’s neck - something that gives him a chance to get a proper sniff of Bond’s scent - and pretends to be unable to even look at Williams, Bond runs his fingers through his hair and says something to Williams that makes him chuckle. 

“All right, darling, you can sit here for a bit and relax. When you feel better, you’ll come join us in the bedroom, won’t you?” Bond says, and Q nods. He pulls away from Bond and allows the agent to lead him to the sofa, incidentally near where Williams’s laptop currently is. Bond smiles and places a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth, and then follows Williams into the bedroom. 

Q waits for long enough that he hears the sound of clothes hitting the floor followed by the first moan, and then he reaches for the laptop. Best case scenario would have been Bond being able to distract Williams long enough for Q to find any other devices the man may have brought with him, as well, but he’s prepared for only getting his hands on the laptop and can work with that. 

It takes him less than six minutes to hack his way into the laptop and install the programme, a creation of his own that establishes a link between Q Branch, the laptop, and any other device connected to the laptop. The link will be unnoticeable by anyone but the most brilliant of hackers - which Williams clearly is _not_ \- and through it, Q will get all the data he needs and more. 

“Quinn, darling, are you ready to join us?” 

Bond’s voice breaks his concentration, but luckily Q is already shutting down the laptop. “I am,” he replies and stands up. After making sure that the laptop is exactly the way it was before, he makes his way to the bedroom and gets his first glimpse of a half-naked Bond between the legs of a fully naked Williams. 

Apparently, Bond is in the middle of a rather involved blowjob. 

“Why don’t you come here and watch us?” Bond suggests. Q blinks but does as he’s told, sitting down on a chair to Bond’s left, where he has a view of both men. 

Bond glances at him, then continues what he’s been doing, using both his hands and his mouth to pleasure the man before him. If one didn’t know that he was doing it as a means to distract Williams enough that he wouldn’t wonder where Q was and what he’d been doing, one might even think that he is honestly into the man, that’s how enthusiastic he is. 

Q’s seen it before, though never this close nor in this much detail, and for a moment he wonders whether Bond is showing off for him, even a little. But then he goes back to his role of the shy submissive boyfriend - which comes to him almost too easily, as he isn’t too keen on seeing Williams like this - and hopes that Bond knows how to get them out of the situation soon. 

Bond does. After he makes Williams come (rather explosively, Q might add, with a noticeable blush colouring his cheeks) he sits back with a smug smile. Williams looks dazed and happy, and doesn’t seem to notice that Bond is still hard. Q does, and it makes him blush even harder, which was probably Bond’s aim as he then makes all the appropriate excuses to Williams, cleverly hinting at having to train his Quinn a bit more about being less shy about his own sexual desires. 

“Perhaps we can do this again in the future,” Williams says, as he watches Bond put his clothes back on. 

“Perhaps,” Bond allows. “Though I’m afraid that will have to wait until the next time we meet at a conference like this one.” 

“I shall take you up on that,” Williams says with a smile. “ _Both_ of you, I hope.” 

“I’m counting on that,” Bond says and winks at Williams, and then he begins to guide Q away from the man’s rooms. Q has never been as happy to follow Bond as he is now. 

Back in their shared rooms, Bond leads Q to the sofa and sits him down. “You all right, Q?” he asks. “I hope that what I had to do was not too much for you?” 

He looks worried, and Q realises that Bond is referring to the whole charade of fake boyfriends, not just the sexual part of it. “I’m perfectly fine,” he rushes to assure Bond. “It wasn’t like I needed to even do anything, really.” 

Besides, he had enjoyed Bond’s touches and his closeness. 

Not that he’d tell him that, right now at least. 

“You’re certain?” Bond asks, and after Q nods, he continues, “You got his laptop all right?” 

“Of course,” Q replies. “I’m sure R is downloading data even as we speak.” 

Bond smiles at that. “Good. I’d rather not spend any more time with Williams than necessary.” 

Q fakes a gasp. “Are you saying that you _didn’t_ enjoy what you did with him?” 

“Not in the least.” Then Bond grins. “Had it been you in his stead, however…” which, inevitably, makes Q blush again. 

“You are aware that you don’t need to tease me any longer, aren’t you?” he points out. 

“I am,“ Bond agrees, “but perhaps I enjoy it.” He winks at Q, who snorts but chooses not to react any other way. 

Afterwards, Bond tells Q that he’s getting ready for bed. Q nods, finding it a sensible choice. It’s getting closer to midnight, and they have to wake up reasonably early in the morning for breakfast and the final day of the conference. Q’s happy that spending a third night is no longer necessary, as the mission is completed and they can just leave after the official part of the day is done. 

Bond’s still half hard, but he pays it no mind as he makes his way towards the bathroom. Q tries his best to do the same and not stare at him, or his assets. 

Then Q realises that as they both had been wearing earpieces, never mind all the security cameras Q Branch had been monitoring, his minions have seen and heard it all. Every single detail. And he has no doubt that the betting pool concerning him has evolved yet again, most likely involving Bond in (even) more intimate settings than before. 

_Well, shit._

*

R’s pretty sure that only the fact that M is there to oversee the progress of the mission had kept the rest of the people still present in Q Branch from screaming out loud when Bond had called Q his boyfriend. 

She’s equally sure that everything that had happened from then on has been written down in painstaking detail and shared with anyone not currently present. New bets - or amendments to existing ones - should start trickling in any minute now. 

M leaves when it becomes clear that the mission objective has been reached. R watches him go and then turns back to face the others. 

“Well, that was something,” Moira grins. 

“That was lovely,” sighs Hannah. “Unexpected, but lovely, the way 007 kept holding the boss. And the way he kept him from needing to do anything with that man.” 

R shakes her head. Romantics, the lot of them, just like she’d learnt not too long ago. It’s truly a wonder that Q hasn’t found out about it all yet. 

“I wonder if they kissed yet?” 

“Nah, not yet. But I bet it won’t take too long anymore!” 

“At least the boss looked very comfortable in 007’s arms.”

“That he did. Comfortable enough to perhaps share his bed?” 

“I wish, but I believe they have separate bedrooms for this mission.”

“Right, they weren’t supposed to pretend to be in a relationship.” 

“They did it so well, though. And M was here to witness it all. I wonder if that’s a sign?” 

“For them to be undercover boyfriends for more missions? It definitely should be!” 

“And what starts as faking…”

“Can easily turn into reality. Yes. I like the way you think.” 

R listens to the others chat without a word. The thing is, they aren’t exactly wrong. Bond and Q did an excellent job at pretending to be together, but then again, it was not news to anyone who’d ever seen them together. There is real affection there, of that she is more than certain.

Now, if those two just weren’t moving in pace with a snail, that would certainly help things along a lot. 


	4. Chapter 4

Q’s not exactly nervous when he returns to Six after the mission. 

He’s not, he’s just… apprehensive, that’s all. He doesn’t have any reason to be nervous, either: the mission was a success, he’d been assured by a suspiciously amused sounding R that they’d already started downloading data when he’d contacted her while Bond had been getting ready for bed, and things with Bond hadn’t been awkward at all. (It had probably helped that they had had their own bedrooms.)

They had needed to continue pretending to be boyfriends for the rest of the conference in case Williams saw them, though, but Q had found that rather easy. 

They had even written their after action reports together while sitting in their private carriage in the train. That, Q had privately thought, was probably a first for Bond, who usually handed his in a day or two after the mission ended at the earliest.

And if afterwards Bond had wrapped his arm around Q’s shoulders and then encouraged Q to lean against him, no one else needed to know about that part. 

Q and Bond arrive at Six together, as is perfectly reasonable since their first order of business is a debriefing with M. Together, they make their way up to M’s office, and Bond acts like a true gentleman the whole time: he opens doors for Q, helps him out of his parka, and even pulls out his chair for him.

Q says nothing about it, but he cannot help the hint of colour spreading over his cheeks, especially when M just looks at them knowingly. 

Bond, bastard that he is, seems to enjoy it — at least if one goes by the barest traces of a smile that stays on his lips throughout the whole debrief. 

“Well, congratulations on a perfectly successful mission, gentlemen,” M finally says. “I trust that anything that may have happened in the field won’t be affecting things between the two of you at work?” 

The last part is most likely aimed more at Q than at Bond, and so Q looks M straight in the eyes when he gives his word. Bond sounds the slightest bit amused as he echoes Q’s words, after. 

“Excellent,” M says. “You both have three days of downtime, and I strongly recommend that you use them. Dismissed.” 

Q gets up and leaves the office, Bond on his heels, and knows that neither of them have even the slightest intention of following M’s advice and leaving the building. He’s aware that M knows it too and is probably already resigned to his words being fully ignored, but he also supposes that the man is used to it. 

“You’re off to Q Branch next, I assume?” Bond says once they’re past Eve’s desk and out the door. She’d been on the phone and had just smiled at them, mouthing, “Text me,” to Q and giving Bond a thumbs-up.

(Q is not sure if that should worry him or not. It probably should, though, just to be on the safe side.)

“I am,” he tells Bond. “There are many things I need to be doing today, seeing as I haven’t been around in three days.” 

“I can come with you,” Bond offers. “I’ve yet to return my kit, after all. Unless, of course, you’d prefer I didn’t?” 

“Are you going to be a distraction?” Q asks in return. “Because if yes, then I’m afraid I’ll have to decline your most generous offer.”

Bond laughs at that. “I can be, if one is needed. But if you’re asking me whether I’ll leave you in peace, the answer is yes. If you promise to have lunch with me?” 

Q smiles and shakes his head slightly. “Only if you’re buying.” 

“Naturally,” Bond nods. 

Agreement thus reached, Q and Bond make their way down to Q Branch while chatting lightly about everything and nothing. Q happily ignores the hush that takes over the room when his minions see him arrive together with Bond, and Bond follows his example. He does, however, share a glance with R that Q pretends not to notice. 

Bond follows Q to his office, closing the door behind himself, and proceeds to put his kit down on Q’s desk. Q, who knows exactly how many times Bond had to fire his gun during their mission (zero) and what happened to his earpiece (it’s still perfectly intact), only glances at the items before looking up at the man himself. 

“I’m relieved that you’ve not managed to misplace anything after our return,” he comments. 

“I took great care to return everything in the same condition that it was given to me,” Bond says and looks at him in a way that makes Q flush lightly. Bond clearly notices it, and his smile only makes Q blush more. 

“Remember what you said about not being a distraction?” he asks. 

“I’ve not distracted you though,” Bond says. “Yet.” 

“And on that note, I’m going to have to ask you to follow me,” Q says. “You can either leave and go find your own entertainment, or if you’d like, Kyle has been working on a new prototype and could use some assistance with testing it.” 

“Lead the way.” 

So Q does, leaving the office with Bond and taking him to Kyle. He tells him that Bond has volunteered his assistance with the trials scheduled to start in ten minutes, and then simply leaves them to it. He has a thousand different ideas going through his mind and he plans to get started on several of them before lunch time. 

*

R is the first one to see Bond return to Q Branch after noon with a bagful of food. She meets his eyes and raises one perfectly sculpted eyebrow, then looks at the bag and her own watch in turns. Bond simply nods, and walks straight to Q’s office. He knocks on the door and waits for Q to ask him in, and then steps in, closing the door after himself. 

“What do you think that was about?” Charles asks her curiously. 

”Oh, that’s just lunch,” R replies and makes a note on her tablet. Charles is still relatively new both at Six and in the betting pool, he’s probably forgotten that Bond has brought Q lunch before. It’s good to know that it’s one habit Bond hasn’t forgotten during his holiday with that blonde woman. 

“I wish we could see what’s happening, though,” Arthur adds. “I bet 007’s chosen only foods that the boss loves. I wonder if he’s feeding him bites by hand?” 

“That’d be so romantic,” Holly smiles dreamily. 

R sighs. She has a feeling that the pair are not quite there yet. But one day soon, perhaps? 

“That remains to be seen,” is all she says, however. And she keeps glancing at the closed office door from time to time, until it finally opens after about an hour. 

Bond steps out, followed by Q who stays by the doorway, and R watches as Bond turns back to face him. He leans closer to Q and says something to him that makes him chuckle, which in turn makes Bond grin and lean his his body lightly against the doorjamb. He stays there at least five more minutes, idly chatting with Q, though everyone else pretends that they’re not at all interested in watching the pair. 

From the corner of her eye, R barely notices Holly secretly pass some money to Lee, and she just knows that it won’t be the only new bet being placed that day. 

*

Things don’t really change for the next couple of months. There are still missions and shared lunches and lots and lots of flirting, but nothing special happens. 

Well, until one particular mission finds its way to Q’s email, that is.

On first glance, it seems to be nothing out of the ordinary. The mission is for 007, and Q thinks that it’s about time, as Bond has been on medical leave for the past two weeks. He has been practically living in Q Branch for the second week, driving Q spare with his incessant flirting and his innocent touches and the way he looks at Q with those blue, blue eyes of his. 

R has taken to looking at him and then at Bond expectantly, while his other minions chatter incessantly whenever they see Bond anywhere near him, and Q's this close to doing something he’d definitely regret afterwards.

Then he reads forward and sees his own name next to Bond’s. 

His email pings for a new message, and Q goes to read it. It’s from Eve, and it’s about the mission, as Q had expected. 

_I believe you’ve seen Bond’s newest mission by now_ , she writes. _M was rather impressed by the way you and Bond handled your previous shared mission, so when Bond suggested you to join him, it was an easy solution. The whole boyfriend thing was Bond’s suggestion, too. Thought you’d like to know._

There is no signature, but none is needed. Q reads the email again and bites his lip thoughtfully. He should have expected something like this to happen, and perhaps deep inside, he had. At least he doesn’t feel quite as surprised as he could be feeling, after reading through the mission brief. 

Q thinks about it some more, and has to admit to himself that pretending to be Bond’s boyfriend for the mission doesn’t make him nervous, like he had expected. 

Instead, he’s rather looking forward to it. 

*

Q’s waiting for Bond to come and see him, and it doesn’t take long. Come lunchtime, Bond appears as if by magic, and he comes bearing a selection of tapas, enough to feed them both and ideal to be eaten by hand. 

That is, at least, what Bond says when he presents them to Q. “They can also be considered romantic,” he adds. “A man can easily feed them to his boyfriend, if said boyfriend is at all amenable to such an activity.” 

Q rolls his eyes lightly, but doesn’t say no. “Something tells me that you’ve been planning this,” is what he decides to say. “But the question remains whether it started before or after the details of our new missions emerged.” 

Bond shrugs. “I may have been toying with the idea for a while. I was just not sure you’d say yes.” 

“What makes you so sure I’ll say yes now?” 

“The timing, of course. With the mission approaching, we’ll need to make sure to be absolutely comfortable with each other. Personally, I’m more than adequately prepared to act as your doting boyfriend, but perhaps you’re not quite there yet?” 

Q looks at Bond quietly for a moment. The man’s correct, no matter how much Q might want to deny it. He’s used to Bond touching him as a friend by now, sure. Now, he needs to get used to 007 touching him like a lover, as well.

“You may have a point,” Q reluctantly admits. “Though last time I think I did just fine.” 

”You did,” Bond assures him. “More than fine. But I’d feel better if you said yes.”

When Bond puts it like that, what can Q do but say yes?

And besides, it’s not like he’s exactly opposed to the idea. Sure, it has the potential to become a little awkward since they’re not really lovers or anything, but he also trusts Bond and knows that Bond doesn’t want to embarrass him. Practicing this whole being boyfriends thing would be a lot more difficult and possibly even anxiety-inducing with any other double-oh, that is for sure.

Q may also have had a dream about Bond hand feeding him a time or two, not that he’d ever admit it to anyone. 

Bond leads him to the sofa in the corner of his office and uses the small table near it as a place to spread out the food. He treats the whole thing like a date, sitting close to Q and focusing his full attention on him, flustering Q with his words and touches combined with the way he makes sure to feed Q the tastiest morsels.

Q’s finding it rather hard to remember that they're not on a date for real, that it’s 007 who’s making him feel all these things, and he thinks it highly unfair. 

“I’m not sure if I’ve ever told you, but you look adorable when you blush,” Bond murmurs after they’ve finished eating. He reaches out a hand and brushes a lock of hair behind his ear, making Q blush anew. 

“Is that why you always do these things?” he asks softly. 

“Partly, yes,” Bond admits. 

Q says nothing to that, just basks in the feeling of Bond running his fingers through his hair. It feels nice, and it’s also one of the touches he could expect from Bond during the mission, so he sees no reason to tell him to stop. 

“Can I kiss you?” Bond asks after a few moments of shared silence. 

“What?” Q blinks. That one he did not expect. 

“Boyfriends tend to kiss each other, so it only makes sense that we practice that, too,” Bond explains. “And I would be lying if I said I’ve never thought about kissing you.”

“Oh. Um. I suppose?” 

“That’s hardly enthusiastic consent, but if it’s all I get…” Bond leans closer to him, but stops just before his lips would touch Q’s. “If you want me to stop, just say the word and I will.” 

Q, who has certainly also thought about kissing Bond, nods. It’s enough of a permission for Bond, who then finally presses his lips against Q’s. 

Bond kisses like there’s nothing more he’d rather be doing than kissing him, like he has all the time in the world to get acquainted with Q’s lips and mouth and the rest of his body, and he holds Q like he’s the most precious thing he’s ever touched. Q feels immediately overwhelmed, and can do nothing but kiss him back, wrapping his arms around the man’s neck and letting himself feel. 

When they finally surface for air - for more than short lungfuls in between increasingly heated kisses, that is - Q looks up at Bond and feels dizzy. He’s sure he’d need to sit down if he wasn’t already on the sofa, leaning against the armrest with Bond practically on top of him. 

Though wait, when exactly did that happen? He blinks and distinctly remembers being upright when they had started this whole practicing kissing thing that Bond had suggested. 

“Um,” he says, ever eloquent. “That was… um.”

Bond smiles. “Indeed,” he agrees as he sits back up and helps Q up, too. “I believe it’s safe to say that we won’t have any problems pretending to be lovers.” 

“That seems to be a fair assessment, yes.” 

“How’s your dancing?” Bonds asks next, looking at him with a curious look in his eyes. 

“I’m, um, not sure?” Q says, blinking. 

And that’s how he ends up dancing with James Bond in the middle of his office, without any music other than that of the agent lightly humming. 

*

Later, when he looks back on that day while walking to their hotel room with Bond’s arm around his waist, Q thinks that he’s never been happier that he’s the only one who can access the security cameras in his office. Otherwise, he’s sure, there’d be no living with his minions. 

It’s the third day of the mission, and Bond has been the most attentive (fake) boyfriend in the history of attentive (fake) boyfriends. He is careful to make sure that Q is comfortable with everything he does, and he never takes advantage of his permission to touch Q how he wishes.

Especially not in bed. 

“There’s a camera in the frame of that picture,” Q informs him and leans closer into Bond’s warmth. Bond follows his eyes to the photograph opposite their bed, then shuffles over and puts his arm around him carefully. 

“Okay?” 

Q hums and rests his head against Bond’s chest to show him that he’s perfectly comfortable where he is. 

Q cannot help wondering if this is how Bond is with all of his lovers, or if it’s because Q is his Quartermaster. Either way, he has never had fewer problems with Bond touching or kissing him, and Q might even have instigated the kissing a time or two. 

The last one he only does because it’s expected of him in his role as the man’s boyfriend, of course.

Or, that’s at least how he wants everyone to see it, Bond included. If he’s ever to tell Bond about his true feelings, Q is more than aware that in the middle of a mission is neither the time nor the place for such an admission. 

Too bad Bond apparently isn’t. 

*

The sixth day starts well enough with Bond taking Q to a nearby café for breakfast. They have a lovely time up until the moment when their target appears with four bodyguards in tow and forces them to follow him at gunpoint. 

“I’ve been expecting you, Mr Bond,” he says once they’ve all piled into the van, with bodyguards on either side of Bond and Q and their target before them. “But I must confess, I did not expect you to drag your boyfriend along as well. Not very considerate of you, is it?” 

Bond tightens the arm he’s wrapped around Q. “My boyfriend knows nothing about any of this,” he says. “We’re here simply for a holiday.”

“Well then, that’s too bad for him,” their target replies. Then he looks at Q. “Sorry, darling, but you should have picked a better boyfriend.” 

Q presses himself closer to Bond in an effort to appear scared and confused. Having their target consider him simply a hapless young man unfortunate enough to get caught in the crossfire due to an unwisely chosen boyfriend could cause the man to underestimate him, which in turn could be an advantage for them. 

Bond, however, doesn’t seem to share his thoughts. Instead, he tries his best to get them to leave Q out of it, but to no avail. 

Well, luckily for him, Q privately thinks. He would have been extremely cross with the agent if he'd succeeded, as one of the reasons for the mission is to get inside the target’s home. 

The rest of the ride is spent in what to Q feels like quiet contemplation. He’s perfectly aware that Bond has fallen into the 007 mindset of his, the very same one that he always adopts for missions, but he’s also playing the part of a protective boyfriend brilliantly. Bond has tangled their fingers together and squeezes them gently from time to time, and periodically he’s also dropping calming kisses on the side of Q’s face. 

Q doesn’t exactly need it, but he appreciates it all the same. 

Eventually, they reach their destination. Bond and Q are ushered out of the car and into the house, and Bond is searched by one of the bodyguards, though not especially thoroughly. With Q, another bodyguard barely bothers to make a proper effort. 

Q would be offended if it didn’t mean that his act has been successful. 

“...and so you see, Mr. Bond, you have been destined to fail from the start. My organization shall…”

Their target turns out to be one of those monologuing villains that 007 seems to attract in more than his fair share - Q’s heard several of those monologues as Bond’s handler - and Q has to actually hide his face against the agent’s chest at one point just so his reaction to the melodrama doesn’t spoil his scared boyfriend act. 

“Pay attention when the boss is talking,” Q’s lackluster frisker growls.

Q finds it hard to feel truly scared in their situation, though, as he’s fully aware of the guns and the other useful gadgets hidden on both of their persons that the bodyguards hadn’t known to look for. The confiscation of the decoy gun had seemed to be enough for them. 

Still, the eventual big fight isn’t as easy as that. Bond has little problem dealing with the bodyguards; surprisingly, it’s their target himself that causes the biggest hitch in their plans. 

“Come quietly, unless you want your boyfriend to watch me blow your brains out,” he says as he presses something cold and metallic against the back of Q’s neck just as he’s about to eject the flash disk he’s used to install his patented virus onto the man’s servers.

Q’s not very happy about being kidnapped by the man again, nor is he impressed by the car chase that follows. He’s even less impressed when their target manages to crash the car while trying to evade Bond, and doesn’t even have the decency to hurt himself gravely.

Q is happy that his own injuries are relatively minor, however. He’s pretty sure that he’s got a slight concussion (inconvenient but hardly enough to stop him from doing his best to get out of the car) and there is definitely blood running down his face. Still, if what is probably a sprained ankle is the worst of it, he reckons he's gotten off lightly. 

Bond appears just in time to offer him his arm for support and help him find his balance when his ankle gives out on him. Sprained it is, then, he thinks and tries his best to ignore the twinges of pain as he thanks Bond. 

“Are you all right, Q?” Bond asks, looking worried. 

“I am,” Q assures him. “My ankle is probably sprained and my head hurts a bit, but that’s all.” 

Bond looks like he doesn’t quite believe him, but when, after a quick check up, he doesn’t find anything else wrong with Q, he has to accept it as the truth. He pulls Q into his arms anyway, and holds him tight for a moment. 

Their target, as Q sees from the corner of his eye, has also managed to extricate himself from the wreck of the car, and doesn’t seem to be inclined to wait around for Bond to finish his mother henning. How very inconsiderate of him. 

“007…” Q starts, before Bond cuts him off. 

“Stay safe, Q. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you,” Bond tells him and kisses him passionately. Then he runs after their target.

Anyone listening in would most likely just assume that it had been part of their cover. But Q, who saw the look in Bond’s eyes, realises that it had been Bond and not 007 who had said those words to him.

He blinks and wonders how exactly he’s supposed to react to the confession of Bond’s feelings - for that’s what it had been - in such a situation. 

*

They don’t get to talk about Bond’s confession until later in the evening when they’re back at the hotel and Bond has insisted on bandaging Q’s wounds. As it’s usually the other way around, Q thinks that Bond ought to understand why he finds the situation so hilarious. 

He points it out to the man anyway because of the whole ’it's better safe than sorry’ and all that, and gets a tolerant smile for his troubles. 

“How does it feel now?” Bond asks once he’s finished with Q’s ankle. “Can you put your weight on it?” 

Q stands up with Bond’s careful assistance and takes a few experimental steps. “Yes, it’s much better now. Thank you.” 

Bond smiles. “I’ll be more than happy to help you walk or even carry you again if needed.” 

“I’m sure you are,” Q mumbles, as he remembers Bond doing just that when they’d arrived at the hotel. Q had tried to tell him that carrying him was totally unnecessary, but Bond had insisted and Q hadn’t felt like making a scene. He’d been blushing the whole way up to their room, however, and did not want to go through that again anytime soon. 

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it at all,” Bond grins. 

“Not as much as you did, that’s for sure,” Q says, glad that they’d both turned off their earpieces after Q had assured his minions that they were both all right and that the mission had been completed.

“Perhaps,” Bond allows. “Still, the offer stands. It’s my fault that you got hurt in the first place.” 

Q sighs and sits back down on the sofa. “You’re wrong, as usual.” He leans closer to Bond and adds, “But you should probably kiss me now.” 

Bond does, with obvious pleasure. Q loses his sense of time among the passionate kisses and gentle touches they’re sharing, and he has absolutely no idea just how long they’ve been at it when they finally pull apart long enough to realise that they’re both starving. 

Bond offers to order them food via room service, citing Q’s ankle as a more than good enough reason to stay put until their return to England the following day. Q has no objections to that. 

The fact that not going anywhere would mean more time for kisses and cuddles on the sofa does play a part in it, too. 

“I love you,” Q says softly - just states it as a fact, really - after Bond has finished the call, having ordered only foods that are among Q’s favourites. 

Bond simply smiles. “I know.” 

*

Later, when they’re on their way back to Britain, Q looks up at Bond from his place against his chest and says, “You are aware that there’s a big betting pool focused on the two of us back at Six, aren’t you?” 

“I am,” Bond nods, his fingers in Q’s hair never stopping their gentle caresses. “Would you like to do something about that, perhaps?”

*

Nothing changes after the mission. 

At least, not according to Q’s minions, who keep on speculating and guessing and, in some cases, downright fantasising about what Bond and Q might or might not be doing behind the closed doors of Q’s office. 

It took R exactly one and a half days to find them out. She took one look at Q’s light blush and Bond’s smug little grin, and that was all the confirmation she needed. Now, she has taken to exchanging knowing looks with them both every time they do something hopelessly couple-y that no one else ever notices. 

How grown men and women who she knows are no blushing virgins - they do like to gossip about their own love lives as well as those of anyone else working in Six - are unable to see what’s right before their eyes, R will never understand. If Q and Bond were any more obvious, they’d need to bloody have sex right in front of their eyes. 

But perhaps the minions are just so into their fun little guessing game that they forget to pay any mind to what is really happening around them. And well, who is she to take their fun away from them? 

  
  


(It all finally comes to a head one day some months later when an exasperated Q mutters, “For crying out loud,” followed by a louder “Bond? You forgot something,” and then kisses the amused Bond on the lips in full view of his branch.) 


End file.
